Those With Courage
by GimmeTehMudkipz
Summary: As timeless legends come alive and ancient evils are reborn, a boy shall learn the meaning of courage and sacrifice...and embrace the endless power it offers. FE6 AU.
1. Prologue: Trouble in Paradise

_**Those With Courage**_

The idea for this fic began when, some moons ago, I realized, "Holy shit! Roy's personality + 7 women equals harem!"

Unfortunately, not only am I out of HS now, the fairly large age range of the FE6 cast doesn't work very well with high school – the typical setting for AU. Thus, I decided on college.

**Disclaimer:** Yeah, right, like I own Fire Emblem. Nintendo and Intelligent Systems does…though, I might try buying Nintendo stocks, what with the wild success of the DS and the similarly anticipated success of the Wii.

_' 'Sacaen speech, indicated as so if I'm too lazy to abuse Internet translations' ' _(damn FFN won't let me use brackets)

**Note:** will periodically be interchanged with romaji (Japanese phonetically redone in English letters), which will be italicized and most decidedly not English words

_Thoughts/emphasis/sounds/romaji if I feel it necessary to use those translators_

"Speech"

* * *

**Prologue: Trouble in Paradise**

* * *

_' '__So…how does it look, Yukyonoken-sama?__' '_ The question came from a young woman with short brown hair. She was dressed in a white lab coat, and was seated next to a computer, having turned away from it to address her companion.

A man with long black hair and a friendly demeanor shrugged in response, not turning his eyes from the folders he was sorting through. _' '__Did you not say you needed to practice the Western tongue? Or have you forgotten?__' '_

She blushed, then replied in a more muted tone, "But…it is easier when I speak our language. I can say my thoughts better…no, more clearly. And, besides…we are in our homeland." _' '__Why should we need to use a foreign language?__' '_

The man returned the files in his hands to their alphabetical order, and turned to face his compatriot. "It's not a matter of need, but of practice. Anyone in my position is well-served by knowledge of other cultures and languages – I do a great deal of travel, and I even work with foreigners on many occasions. I recall you saying you aspire to be like me…but even if that is not so, then perhaps you can do so in the spirit of academia.

"More importantly, though…I must confess I am more at ease when addressed less formally."

"…I…I am sorry…then…"

"Hikaru-san will do, as we have known each other since our undergraduate days…and I believe I have done all you asked me for. I must confess, I am a researcher, not a practicing doctor…but I have looked over those cases you requested, and your prognoses and treatments appear to be ideal. Even if you are pregnant, you remain competent, Futaba-san – you're not even in your second trimester yet, after all."

The woman blushed once more. "Th-thank you…but it feels impudent to call you by your first name…and since I've known you for so long, your foreign name would be-"

Sighing deeply, Hikaru rose from his seat and collected his briefcase. "Come now, _Mitsune_," he prodded, emphasizing his use of her given name. "You know I would sooner perceive that as familiarity than brusqueness, and I would be disappointed if an old friend of mine called me 'Karel'. Be more at ease.

"Well then, I must be going home. Farewell, _Mitsune_-san."

"Goodbye, Yukyo – I mean, Hikaru-san."

He smiled warmly in response, and shut the door behind him.

* * *

Hikaru strolled to the intersection at a leisurely pace. However exhausting and demanding his work was, it took more than mere work to call for haste – that was the among the first things he had learned after graduating from medical school.

When he stopped at the crosswalk, something in the far corner of his vision caught his attention. Turning around, he saw a pair of black cars pull up along the curb next to the private practice he had just left. _…Futaba-san…what could be …_.

A sharp jolt in his head caused him to cringe suddenly, and he shakily collapsed to his hands and knees. _What…this is…no! Not now! Of all the times…damnit!_

As he felt something slip, he vaguely remembered his sister's words concerning this phenomenon. She had been strangely calm, but he knew Akari (only he was allowed to use her native name anymore) too well to miss the subtle panic in her voice.

_Dissociative identity disorder…but this is…_

When the pain stopped, he rose once more. Reaching into his long black coat, he firmly squeezed the leather-bound metal case within once before withdrawing his hand. His stride was steady, light, and determined, the slow pace of one who has succumbed to a craving he cannot slake, a summons he cannot refuse.

The two men in suits outside the office noticed this, and one of them stepped forward to meet him. _' '__Hey, pal. What's the hurr__-' '_

A short, sharp blade jutting through his spine cut him short. His partner scrambled for his comlink, but his throat was sliced open before he could call for help. Stonily glaring at both of the corpses, Hikaru then turned his attention to his friend's personal practice. Another smile formed – this one, however, was devoid of the familiar warm happiness.

He marched forward and slashed the door in half, which turned the heads of the six gangsters inside, one of whom was currently roughing up the woman who ran this clinic. All of them paled at the sight of the pooling blood of their comrades outside.

_' '__Welcome...to your nightmare_,_' '_ he taunted the thugs, mockingly bowing before charging forward.

* * *

Surrounded by the wreckage of battle, the blood of his foes, their dead bodies permanently carrying their pain and despair…somehow, it seemed familiar. Like he had done this in a past lifetime. Not even the pain of a bullet in his off-arm could faze him or diminish the pulsing of his veins, the fill of blood he had just achieved.

But that was of no concern. A more important matter lay before him, separated from his right hand, screaming for mercy. Hikaru Yukyonoken was not one for smelling emotions, but a particularly distinct scent coming from the man on the floor before him was a sure sign of fear.

_' '__W-w-wait, please! I surrender! I won't hurt anyone ever again! I'll leave right now! So please-!__' '_

The blade pressed to his neck quickly silenced him.

_' '__Sate my thirst, whelp,__' ' _Hikaru taunted, baring a sadistic grin.

_' '__My thirst for blood...__' '_

The man began to shake even more violently with fear, and he began to bawl once more, pleading for his life. The doctor's stony face did not change, and he idly noted, "Pathetic. All you are is a weakling who feigns strength. Merely a fool…"

Slicing the helpless thug's throat open, he casually noted,_ ' '__And fools…do not deserve life…__' '_

Turning to face the only one he had not attacked, his sanguinary chuckling returned. "You, too…you are weak…and foolish."

She began to tremble as the latest victim had, but her will and familiarity with Hikaru managed at least some degree of composure. "Hi-Hikaru-san…what is the meaning of this?" she softly whispered.

"Hikaru…hn. Hikaru is not here.

_' '__That weakling...has become me...__' '_

Reality dawned on her, and Mitsune Futaba's eyes widened with fear and recognition. "K…no, your sister…does she-"

He responded with another deep, muted cackle. "Yes…she knows that I exist. She does _not_ know, however, that I can do such things as this…"

"What? But…but weren't you-"

* * *

_This is a bad idea. Bad idea. _BAD FUCKING IDEA!

Despite the mental klaxons blaring in his psyche, Roy still did not run. He'd likely made a mistake coming here, but leaving now would make things far worse than never having shown up. Somebody else could have taken his place – he knew that Lilina had taken the time to know and befriend much of her father's house staff. He could have said that he needed sleep – the graduation party had been chaotic enough _before_ Damas had started playing with his snap-open lighter near the keg (not touching alcohol that night had likely been the best decision Roy ever made – a suitable contrast to the situation he was now in). Hell, he could have never picked the phone up, and she would never have questioned him about it – it was already midnight, and he had just finished his nightly bath when the call came.

_Damnit, a heart of gold is a pain in the ass_, his inner cynic snarled. Nonetheless, he breathed deeply, reached for the furthest recesses of his composure, and stepped through the tall oak doors that a pair of servants held open – Bors and Barth, long-time employees of the Ostia family, if memory served – into a grand house that, now stripped of its patriarch, seemed eerily empty.

A middle-aged man with a full beard and a brown overcoat swaggered around from underneath the large banister that led upstairs. "Oh, it's you. The childhood friend, the brave soldier, the hero of our little tale. How's life been, Roy?"

The boy laughed and scratched the back of his head nervously in response. "Um, it's been alright, Asthor. I see your wit hasn't changed, at least. That's comforting."

The wry butler sniffed. "Comforts have been a rarity in the past few days. For me, they've usually come from glass bottles with foreign names. Thankfully, though, Bors knows a handy hangover cure…but onto other matters. There's a sobbing damsel up there, and she needs a knight in cotton and nylon to head up to the third floor. Get going, kid."

Roy quickly glanced down at his t-shirt and gym shorts and flushed lightly, softly muttering, "…Well, I can go up there, sure…but what do I do? Is there something only I can do that she called me here for?"

Asthor responded with an exaggerated cough, which Roy quickly caught the meaning to by shooting him an offended scowl. "…Well, you've been her closest friend for the last…what, ten years? She might know us fairly well, too, but there're always those age and generation barriers, y'know?

"Don't worry. Nice guys like you always know how to cheer people up. Just trust your instincts."

Breathing deeply for composure once more, Roy nodded with conviction. "Right. My instincts…thanks, Mr. Asthor."

The butler snorted. "You're the only one who addresses me like that around these parts, y'know. There's a reason for it, too."

Roy sighed and shook his head, his untamed red hair flailing about with his amusement. "I'm going, Mr. Asthor. See you later."

As the stolid redhead ascended the flights of stairs, the Ostia household's butler sighed and held his head in his right hand.

"I got this feeling there won't be any coming back from this…good luck, Roy."

--

Sighing shakily, Roy squeezed his eyes shut and tentatively raised his hand. He'd been careful to make his steps quiet, though the lush carpet simplified that task. _There's nothing to be frightened about. I've been in there before, right?_

_Yeah…WHEN SHE WAS 12!_ Another portion of his mind screamed. _When neither of you were legal, and didn't know a DAMN thing about sex!!_

_Still, either way, the only reason she called was because she trusts me this much_, Roy reasoned.

The little devil in the back of his head sniggered. _Or maybe she _wants _you to-_

_What the hell?! Damnit, I'm not taking advantage of her grief like that! For her sake, I've got to be calm about this._ His mind set, Roy gently knocked on the door to Lilina's room. "Um, Lilina? I'm here. C-can I come in?"

Shuffling sounds came from the room, and the door swung away to reveal the orphaned young woman. Her pale ivory skin and delicately shaped features were framed by long, silken blue locks that were slightly ruffled at the moment, and normally bright and deep blue eyes were red with drying tears. Her bright pink lips trembled at the sight of her longtime friend, and she choked back a sob before nodding. "Yes…y-you can," she replied as she turned around to make her way back to her bed.

_Shit_,Roy mentally cursed. _She really _does_ look good without makeup…and to make things worse, she's wearing pajamas! Did those tailors intentionally make the thing hug her-_

_STOP RIGHT THERE!_ the benevolent (and ruling) portion of his mind furiously screeched. _Perverted thoughts will only make this much harder than it already is! You're here to cheer her up, not for…other things!_

_Like what? Checking her out?_ His oft-latent id twitched his fingers in quotation marks to emphasize the statement, which made the other side of his mind growl indignantly. _Seriously, we've known her for years. She'll trust us if we make a move…and we already know from past experience that she'd do nearly anything for our sake…_

A rather prominent period came to mind, when he'd broken his leg in a basketball game. During this time, Lilina had driven him to school and helped him fulfill a number of errands he usually did on a regular basis, and had even offered to help him bathe, citing the difficulties the cast presented – in retrospect, he recalled that she had grown quiet and red-faced when she'd said that, and had remembered that the Pherae house staff could tend to that need. Naturally, he vehemently refused, not wanting to burden her so heavily and also being violently embarrassed by the prospect of disrobing in her presence. _And why the hell did I remember _THAT _little detail?!_

_Why the fuck else? No matter what you say, you _do_ want her_, his id nonchalantly quipped.

"Um…Roy?"

He snapped out of his thoughts at the sound of her voice. _Damnit,_ he internally cursed, coloring with embarrassment. "Oh…sorry, Lilina. I really-"

She smiled tolerantly. "It…it's all right. I can understand if you're tired." Her gaze fell, and she quietly added, "I…I'm sorry. I asked you to come even though it's so late…I'm being selfish, aren't I?"

"Huh? No, no," Roy replied, shaking his head. "I'm really not tired, and there's no way I could sleep after you called me like that." Over the phone, she had sounded like she was crying, and that had been why he'd simply sprinted to the garage in the shorts and shirt he usually slept in. _Oh crap…now that I think about it, I _really_ should have worn something else…_. Roy walked in and went for her desk chair to pull it over.

Lilina gave him a puzzled look. "Um…Roy? What are you-?"

He quickly turned to face her. "What? What is it, Lilina?"

"Um, why…why are you…"

"Oh…you want me to…" He finished by pointing at her bed, next to her seat. She nodded quickly, trying to hide her embarrassment by turning away. Taking his hand off the chair, he softly made his way over to the bedside, tentatively sitting next to her. _Remember, she's doing this because she trusts you. Doing anything…_wrong_…would hurt her terribly._

"So, what's wrong?" Roy began. "Is it about…"

Lilina's gaze fixed itself on the floor, and her hair shifted forward to hide her eyes as she quietly replied, "Yes…

"At the graduation ceremony, when we were leaving, I saw so many students running out to greet their families. …They looked so happy. The families would be so proud of their child, and they'd be so excited about their future…it made me envious. It hurt to watch them have a happiness that I can't have anymore…" Her voice began to crack, and the tears spilled from her eyes once more. _Oh God,_ Roy moaned. _I hate seeing her cry…_

"Oh…" Roy cringed, and quietly noted, "So that's why you weren't at the graduation party…"

She put on a pained smile in response. "Did you have fun, Roy?"

He shook his head. "It was too crazy. I got out as soon as I could – when Wolt got drunk half an hour after showing up, I knew things were going to get out of hand too fast. …I don't like abandoning my friends like that, but I never liked wild parties to begin with.

"It's a good thing I didn't, anyways," he added with a chuckle.

Lilina frowned at his words. "Why would that be bad?"

Nervously scratching the back of his head, he replied, "'Cause if I found out I was having fun while you were crying, I don't think I could live with myself for having abandoned you like that."

She flushed red upon hearing that, and a warmth washed over her heart as she stared at him in shock. Her surprise eventually gave way to an epiphany, and she smiled softly and closed her eyes, touching a hand to her heart as her tears fell once more.

"Lilina, why are you crying again?" Roy paused briefly, before adding, "…Did I say something that I shouldn't have?"

Lilina's blue locks flailed about as she shook her head. "No…it's alright.

"…But you've always been like this, haven't you…"

"Hm? Like what?" Roy inquired.

"You've always been so kind…and you're always willing to help me and be with me…even when we first met, that's what you've always done. It…it makes me so happy to have met you." When she opened her eyes, they sparkled with something that Roy, at the time, could not have put a name to. "…I'm so grateful to have you in my life," she quietly whispered.

Roy blushed, nervously scratching his neck. _Well, that's an awfully convenient way to word it!_ "Please, Lilina. You're making me out to be an angel or something…all I do is try to support the people I love."

Lilina started, turning to face Roy with trepidation. "The…the people you…love?"

The redhead nodded. "Yeah! You know, my friends and family!" Oblivious to Lilina's slightly crestfallen expression, he continued, "The people I know and treasure, the ones I can be at peace and be myself around. The people I can share my secrets with, and the people I can rely on."

Looking on in awe, she watched him stand up and passionately continue. "Those people…they mean everything to me. That's why I want to do everything I can for them. I'll cheer them on, help them with their troubles, be there when they need me…and above all else, I'll protect them whatever the cost, because they're worth it!"

Roy turned around and saw Lilina covering her mouth, trying to hide her giggling. Shaking her head, she replied, "Wow…that was inspirational, Roy. I've never heard you talk like that before, not even when you were the student body president."

The redhead's face turned the hue of his hair as he nervously chuckled. "Heh…yeah, you're right…well, even a dog has its day, right? Besides, I'm not really eloquent or innovative…I just had a really good reputation.

"And everybody knew that the Student Council doesn't have a whole lot of pull over what we do, anyways, so it's not like I was really getting a whole lot done before I quit. It was more important to me to…" Roy realized his mistake and bit his tongue immediately, but the damage was done.

Lilina sighed dejectedly, her gaze falling to her bare feet. "Yeah…you quit when…when Father died, so you could be there for me. …I…I'm sorry. I should be stronger than this, shouldn't I? …I'm supposed to be my father's daughter…but all I did was cry. I…I'm pathetic…I'm just being a burden…"

"What? No!" Roy denied, clamping his hands on Lilina's shoulders as he began to try and do what he came to her room for – to cheer her up. "Grief is natural! It's supposed to hurt when someone you love dies, Lilina. It's not your fault, or because you're lacking something…"

Shaking his head, he continued more quietly, "Really, Lilina, you put yourself down too much. That's a terrible habit."

Suddenly, he flinched and colored as he realized where his hands were. _SHIT! Not good!_

As he tried to pull away, her hand gently laid itself on his wrist. His eyes widened. _Wh-…what? What is she-?_ He watched with uncertain eyes as she quietly began, her silken blue hair concealing her beautiful azure eyes, veiling the emotions that her quivering voice betrayed. _And why the HELL am I talking poetry?!_

"Roy…you've always been there for me. Y-you've always been there to help me, no matter what it was. You've been so kind to me all these years…I could always turn to you…

"I…I don't know where I'd be without you…or what I would do if you weren't here for me…so please…"

_What? Why is she…ugh…damnit, I wish I knew what went on in women's heads…_. Asthor's words came unbidden in that moment of confusion, which really did not help. _…Somehow, I get the feeling he's only trying to push us together…_

"Um…what…what do you mean? We're going to the same college, and we have the same major. Why would you be scared about something like that?" Roy could only be baffled as to why she had these unfounded fears.

"My…I remember my mother telling me she and her sisters grew apart during college…I asked Father about it, and he told me that she always seemed regretful when she was contacted by one of them. It…it would hurt me so much…I don't want that to happen to us," she softly whispered. With a nervous, muted laugh, she continued, "I know you probably never worried about something like that…but could you promise me…?"

Roy worked his jaw once, then quickly replied, "Don't worry, Lilina. I wouldn't ever let that happen. We've known each other since we were little. We've been best friends all these years, and I'm not letting that end so easily."

An idea shot into his mind, and he snapped his fingers and shouted, "Yes! That's it!" Immediately, he then flushed red with the full realization of what he had just thought of, and turned away from Lilina.

"Huh?" The blue-haired young woman stood up and touched Roy gently on the shoulder. "What is it?"

"Um…I'd just thought that…y'know, we're gonna be living in the dorms, right?" She nodded, and he continued in an antsy voice, twiddling his fingers, "Well…that would probably make it harder to see each other…'cuz they're obviously gonna be separated. That's why I got that idea…but now that I think about it, that's a whole 'nother batch of problems…"

"Well, what is it?"

"Um…I thought of…I'd thought that if I meant that much to you, maybe we should just get an apartment and live together…"

Lilina blushed and set a hand over her fluttering heart when she heard his suggestion. "What? …You…live with me…?"

"See?" Roy awkwardly rambled. "Isn't that a hair-brained thought? As soon as it came out of my mouth, I knew that…oh, man, that would be so awkward!" Fumbling for more words, he went on, "We've known each other forever, but never like that – we haven't gone out with each other or anything! And we might not be able to find an apartment anyways, so-"

"I…I wouldn't mind…" she quietly interjected.

"Yeah, see? That's exactly what I thought, too-" Right on cue, the redhead did a double-take. "What?"

"I – I said I wouldn't mind living with you!" she blurted out loud, nervously setting her hands in her lap and trying to will the embarrassment in her face away.

"…Um…uh…" Stunned and short of words, he spent a minute fumbling for a proper response.

Finally, he was able to muster the courage to reply with, "…Well, if that's what you want, then…what the hell, let's do it."

* * *

After bidding Lilina a good night, Roy gingerly shut the door behind him and slumped against it to the ground. "Oh, man…I can't believe I just did that…"

"Not quite what I was hoping for…" Roy spun his head to see Asthor leaned against the wall next to the door, who squashed a mocking smirk and continued, "but hell, it's a start. I'll get the word to Marcus, and we'll start looking for apartment openings and moving companies. Only the best, of course – I imagine you guys could tolerate less, but Marcus, Oswin, Bors, the rest of those prim and boring bastards wouldn't stand for it."

The son of the president sighed deeply and rubbed his forehead. "No, I guess they wouldn't.

"I gotta get home – I ran right past Marcus without explaining what I was doing, and I left my cell phone back and wallet back at my house, anyways. They're probably fretting over me left and right."

Asthor chuckled. "Actually, that old bag wised up and tried calling here – I just picked up and hung up every time, and he eventually gave up and quit calling. Talk about insensitive – here you are trying to cheer up the poor girl, and he can't butt out!"

"Mr. Asthor?"

"Hm?"

"Fuck you…" With his thoughts on the grizzly butler's meddling shared, Roy rose to his feet, yawned deeply, and walked off, adding, "…and thanks."

"You're welcome," the older man replied, promptly pulling out his cell phone to reach the Pherae household with the new developments. _Hopefully, this'll calm Marcus down, what with how he is about "finding the right woman" for Roy…_

* * *

The dim reflection of the moonlight on the steel pierced his eyes, the combination of the vague shine of the black metal and the connected memories stripping him of his ability to sleep. Idly twirling the large handgun on its flat broadside, he spent this newfound restlessness contemplating what had come to pass in the past three months.

His long brown hair was lightly tangled from unsettled sleep, and fatigue dulled the normally sharp gaze of his deep chocolate eyes. Tall, handsome, and lean but strong, a hardened scowl and terse demeanor transformed his size and good looks into a highly imposing figure and aura. Sometimes, people would even go out of their way, onto the edges of the sidewalk, to keep away from him when he prowled the streets of Aquelia, hot on the trail of his latest case.

While he might momentarily have been less-than-scary due to wearing nothing and sitting on the edge of his bed, his fearsome countenance remained etched into his very being. Ryuichi – _how long has it been since anyone called me that? Should I still consider it my true name?_ – would not say that he was proud of it, but it served its purpose: to keep people out of his way, and to keep them out of his life. His dangerous career and reckless devotion to his personal goal did not, in his mind, permit the presence of others. They would be endangered by his work or – the more likely possibility – would suffer if he died.

_It's always worked…_turning behind him, he irritably noted, _Except for this fool._ A snarl crossed his face briefly as he wondered,_ what makes her believe she can become some sort of surrogate mother to me?_

Said woman was currently sleeping, turned in the opposite direction by him. She had been cuddling against him when he'd woken in the dead of the night…and he had a feeling that she hadn't done that in her sleep. For a professional nurse who kept her dwelling extremely tidy and consistently cooked her own meals (admittedly, they were good), she was highly unreserved in sexual matters, seeming to treat it like a means of providing emotional support and comfort – a purpose akin to the hugs he had received as a child. Certainly a contrast with the petty social games most used it for, and definitely not fitting with how he had envisioned it due to his childhood – the natural outgrowth of a deep love between man and woman. While her shunning of protection was not really much of Rutger's concern (her choice, not his), at least she watched her ovarian cycle and kept morning-after pills for emergencies.

He angrily cursed himself._ That's the reason she ever got into your life in the first place, idiot. A moment of weakness on your part. Can't be much of a loner if you're too busy letting others comfort you to keep them out of your life, hm?_

Turning away, he mentally continued, _For now, perhaps, she chooses not to acknowledge my intent to be alone…I'll find a way to change that, though. Better she is hurt by rejection than my death, especially if this progresses any further…_

"Can't sleep, Rutger?" Her confident, melodious voice pierced his thoughts.

The tall brunette snorted. "Neither can you, apparently."

She sighed in response. "Ever the gentleman, are you?" Sitting up and turning to face him, she swept her long green hair over her shoulders, disregarding her uncovered chest. _Not like there's anything to be embarrassed about. We're living together already, after all…_

"You are a fool for expecting anything from me, Cecilia," he suddenly began, keeping his back turned. "I still see nothing for you to gain from forcing your way into my life."

_This again?_ "I don't see you complaining," she replied in a sultry tone, shuffling over to sit closer to the reclusive private eye.

"I'm not the one emotionally investing myself in a lost cause."

"Yeah, you're the one trying to take down terrorists and get himself killed in the process," quipped Cecilia, frowning and stopping halfway across their bed.

Rutger darkly chuckled. "Is that what you think? I hunt the fiends who killed my family…and I'll put them six feet under so others won't suffer like I have. Somebody has to do this…all the better if it's someone with nothing to lose."

The green-haired nurse gave him an aggravated glare. "Damnit, Rutger, quit this clichéd lone wolf bullshit! You need someone who cares about you in your life, and you already do! You _have_ something to lose, whether you like it or not."

Rutger still did not face her, but came back with, "And there lies the problem – in your delusions. Fancy yourself my caretaker, if you please – my lover, even. That won't make it the truth. You're the one who refuses to chase a man with a more normal life – didn't you get enough aggravation from your military ex, or do you get some twisted thrill from trying to win over men with personal troubles?"

Cecilia snarled. "Percival had problems making sense of his emotions. _You_ are trying to deny that your self-imposed loneliness is painful for you, and that you're just scared of a realm of life where you can't solve your problems with a scowl or a trigger!"

"Hardly." The half-Sacaen man then turned and spat her with a scorning glare. "And you're the one who won't acknowledge that there's a damned reason I'm pushing you away! I don't have delusions of grandeur or invincibility. Revenge brought me to this life, but I'm not still alive because of it.

"If you're stupid enough to get close to me, then perhaps you deserve to suffer when I fall."

A muted _smack_ rang through the room. Rutger's hand had snared Cecilia's wrist just shy of his cheek, stopping her from striking him across the face with a slap. Her frustration curled her fair features into an angry frown, and his face bore a familiar mask of chilly, grim resolve.

"Damn you, Rutger," she hissed, her green eyes seething. "Damn you to hell. Why can't you…why do I…why…" Her fury abated, and tears began to stream down her face as she choked back sobs. "What do you want me to do?" she whispered hoarsely. "…I can't just leave like you tell me to…because when I look into your eyes, I see so much pain, so much loneliness and suffering. I won't abandon someone like that…I have to do _something_."

His features softened, and he pulled his hand away, turning to pick up the jet-black gun he had been fiddling with. "You can't…and it is because of what happened that day. That day, those bastards…they killed all those people so cruelly. There was no quick, merciful release for those caught in the bombings. All they could do was lay and wait…wait for the nerve gas to kill them, slowly and painfully. I was one of the 'lucky' survivors…but what fortune was there in watching my family lose to an ambush set by those cowards, in their going where I couldn't follow? None of those innocents in the subways deserved to die…"

Leaving the firearm on a bedside table, Rutger softly continued, "That's why I have to get revenge. They took the only thing I held dear, and I can give them no mercy or quarter. Those monsters have to die…the innocent blood calls for justice, demands that I stop them before they repeat history.

"I _cannot_ forget that day. It's a scar I'll carry all my life." After a moment of thought, he quietly added, "Nothing is a cliché when it's happening to you."

She shook her head in response. "Maybe that event defines who you are…but you don't deserve to suffer like that."

Rutger snorted contemptuously. "You speak as if I spent every night trembling and crying like a child before you showed up. I don't fear loneliness anymore."

"Yeah…you probably spent every night drunk and brooding. Y'know, the other staple of the lone wolf cliché," Shuffling forward, Cecilia embraced Rutger tightly from behind. "If only for a moment…forget that pain. You deserve the peace of mind, the happiness you've never known since that day."

Sighing heavily, Rutger smirked at the feel of her chest against his back. "…That's the reason you ever got into my life in the first place – my weakness."

"You're only human, Rutger," she softly whispered into his ear. "You can't be perfect. You'll always have your limits…"

…_Ironic, how suffering will perpetuate more suffering._ The further the relationship progressed, the harder it would be to get out, and the more he would eventually hurt her. He'd known this ever since they'd first met, under that burning sunset three months ago. He had been lost in thought, and she had sought to better understand why he had looked so anguished.

_What do I want?_ Within the confines of his own mind, an arena that could not inspire more foolishness on her part, he answered her question. _I want to sleep, to forget. I want my family back, a chance to live the life that was taken from me. A license to kill. All the weapons I'll ever need. To kill my emotions, so that I don't do this to you._

_But right now, more than anything, I want _you. _And that's my weakness._ For all the work of his mind, the intellectual arrangement that had spurred him to seclusion, the cravings of his soul and his body could not be dissuaded. So he turned and accepted what she so freely gave him. What the cold demon within him, the one that demanded vengeance and solitude, railed against. What the scarred and weeping child, the side of him he'd locked away twenty years ago, longed for.

Her soul and her body.

* * *

I found a convenient death for modern-Rutger's family in the nerve-gas bombing of Tokyo's subways in 1995 (I ran across it in my Biology textbook…), which is what inspired me to make Sacae the modern-Elibean equivalent to Japan. Obviously, the italicized dialogue in _' ' _and the possibly butchered romaji (if you see the need, drop a review with the proper translations) is the Sacaen tongue, which is merely real-life Japanese. Another part of the package is the manufactured names for Karel (Hikaru Yukyonoken) and Rutger (Ryuichi Kokaku). Don't worry, though – since I've already worked in their "Western" names, I will continue to use them unless necessary to the plot.

On that note, referring to people by their first names in Japanese culture is extremely informal, so it's seen as rude unless you are very close to them and not an "inferior" (e.g. you're an old friend, parent, lover, et al) – hence that point about Karel's coworker not comfortable with calling him by his first name.


	2. Burning Wish

_**Those With Courage**_

On we go.

This thing seems to be metamorphosing underneath my very nose. Into what, I can't really say, but I've started envisioning a greater focus on Karel – in particular his past and his philosophy (part of which is emblazoned on the summary).

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Fire Emblem or any related intellectual properties (IPs) – they belong to Nintendo and Intelligent Systems, Inc.

* * *

**Chapter 1: Burning Wish**

* * *

"…" _Both remained silent, but the tension lingered in the air with her request. She folded her hands, an odd blend of fear and anticipation brimming in her eyes. However even-minded and cold she could be, both in voice and action, her eyes would always betray her emotions to him. Such was simply how she was, from their days under the same roof, to even now, as adults. He blinked once, then twice, not trusting himself to speak until he had a fitting response, until he could maintain his calm demeanor and voice._

"…_No," he eventually replied, turning away from her._

_As she was not given to hysterics, only the slightest hint of frustration and despair entered her voice as she asked, "Why not?" Others might not have heard it, but again, she was never able to conceal her emotions from him entirely. However immune she had been to the insanity brought by the sub-society of young adulthood, she still had her troubles and pains, and he had been the one she turned to in those times of trouble. And so he had learned to understand her, perhaps beyond the threshold of mere siblings. Their bond, it seemed, was unique._

_He chuckled, a faint tone of amused derision entering his voice. "You and I are not meant to tread all our paths in life together, Akari. We are family, but we remain distinct. Far more than three years separates us._

"_Studying the sword has taught me much. It steadies me in the place of sleep. It is a brace for my mind, a fount of healing for what insomnia has brought me. You suffer from no such malady, Akari. You are in no need of such mental reinforcement…and so you have no use for the way of the sword."_

_He could feel her gaze boring into the back of his head, and so he turned to look her in the eye. Again, the faint pleading was there in her eyes, however cool and detached the rest of her was. Perhaps only his eyes could see it. Perhaps he was the only one she would expose herself like this to. It was a mystery that would vex him for some years._

"_You say it has brought you knowledge, _nii-san._ You say it has brought you peace. If that is so, then what harm is there in my seeking that enlightenment? I want to know what it has given you, what it can offer."_

_He laughed once more. "You have followed me through many of the paths I tread. Sometimes, I wonder if you will always do so…" Pausing only briefly, he continued, "This…loyalty…why? Why does it drive you like this?"_

_She bit her lip in a rare, open display of pensive nervousness. Clearly, this was a subject she did not often devote extensive amounts of thought to. Neither did he, but he often had more pressing concerns, chief among them his mental state. _

_She eventually replied, with a gentle smile and a half-exasperated tone of voice, "You are my brother…all our lives, we have been together. Why should it end here?"_

_The elder brother's gaze petrified, devoid of expression. _Of course…

"_You have always been this way, have you not? So pure of heart…_"_ Pausing briefly, he continued in a less nostalgic tone with, "So much more the reason for you to never raise a blade – in all your days."_

"_What?" Akari murmured, willing away the flush in her cheeks. "Why would I-"_

"_Long have I followed the way of the sword," he interrupted. "It has taught me much, but it has shown me more. I have felt the blackest pits of the soul…a curse of bloodlust."_

_Ignoring the puzzled shock on her face, he continued, "All who follow the way of the sword will learn…in the hands of men, it yearns, longs to tear flesh asunder, to rend and bleed. It brings a hunger for slaughter to those who seek its mastery, something an age of peace and the rise of technology cannot change. Even now, all weapons bring a thirst for power and blood to those who wield them. …This thirst should remain unknown to a gentle soul such as your own."_

_Less alert than he would have preferred, he was caught unawares by his sister's sudden embrace. He eventually returned the hug with a slight, clumsy hesitance. Were it not for the serious nature of their conversation, Akari might have giggled – however gentle and kind he was, her brother was not one to openly express affection._

"_Why?"_

_Her softly whispered question caught Hikaru off guard, and he regarded her with a measure of puzzlement._

"_Why do you have to suffer like this,_nii-san_?" she repeated, her question muffled by his shirt. "Your insomnia, your studies…these towering expectations of you from your career…and now this? I…I wish things weren't like this. That you could have had a simpler life…"_

"_Akari." Curt and clipped, his tone of voice caught her attention firmly, as did his pulling his arms away._

"_We can wish for everything, and we achieve nothing. I will simply be who I am, and I will not hold back in my endeavors. …Some say I am too young to be in professional research. Some say I am not meant to advance so fast at such a young age. What they say matters not. I am not afraid of these trials._

"…_And if I must bear these burdens as a price for my courage…then so be it. Such is fate, and I cannot escape it, nor will I run from it. Take heart, Akari. I am stronger than this."_

_With a rare, dim smile, she stepped away and replied, "As am I. So be it, then – if you insist on facing such pains, then at least you can face them alongside someone else."_

"_Did you not hear me, Akari? I will not-"_

"_You should know by now, brother – you never win these arguments_…_besides, if you don't teach me, you know I'll-"_

"_No. You would not be discerning enough to find a sufficiently competent instructor, nor would you be able to develop enough skill to rival mine. You will not find a superior school of swordsmanship than the one I studied…and _sensei_ branded me the acme of Shinmei Kaze-ryuu. Were it not for my other tasks, I would head the school in _sensei_'s stead…so if you truly will be so stubborn about learning the sword, you will at least need a suitable teacher."_

"_Alright," she replied, nervous anticipation breaking out on her face, "so show me how good a teacher you are, _nii-san_."_

* * *

Karel slowly opened his eyes, allowing the memory to fade. Glancing up, he observed that the incense on the shrine he had just lit was beginning to burn out. Putting his hands together and bowing respectfully to the shrine and the portrait once more, he rose from his knees. "In time, Akari…in time, we shall meet again. But not before my work is done, and my time is past. There are still those who need me…and you and I both would never forgive me for failing them."

Turning away from the aging picture before it could rouse memories of old, he left the small room. Behind him, the thin wisps of smoke and wafting scent from the incense sticks failed to obscure the photo – a slender, beautiful young woman with long ebony hair and a small smile standing behind a man of similar constitution and good looks seated on a bench, a likewise muted mirth on his face, her arms around his shoulders in an amicable hug.

Returning to his study, he sat down in a large leather chair and plucked from his oaken desk a large tome on Sacaen martial arts, a small bookmark with foreign characters printed on it cloaked in the many pages. _The sword has tempted me with the promise of blood, has shown me its taste…so I will continue the path of the sword to further overcome this affliction, to master the blade as sensei had…to truly become _kensei_…_

The sounds of a series of vehicles parking outside his spacious dwelling alerted Karel to their arrival. Setting aside the large book, he calmly rose from his office chair, made his way to the front door and opened it to see his niece about to ring the doorbell, her father standing behind her and bearing a huge grin.

"_Oji-chan!_" excitedly shouted one Fir Tapferkeit, who hopped forward to wrap her uncle in a pleased embrace. "It's so good to see you!" Indeed, unbridled joy sparkled in her onyx eyes, and she seemed to be quivering with excitement down to the very tips of her fingers. He had once been told that she had her mother's beauty and her father's joviality – an adept assessment, certainly.

The aging philosopher donned an affectionate smile and returned her hug, replying, "Likewise. I assume you have brought everything you need?"

"You bet!" she chirped, dashing off to help with moving her belongings.

"How reassuring to see her good cheer," Karel idly noted, watching Fir's haste with a muted humor.

"Fir spent the last three weeks all psyched up about moving in with you. She's been digging through all the journals and magazines you and Karla have written in – if anything, she's disappointed that she couldn't memorize all your work." A juggernaut of a man grinned, his short brown hair barely moving with an amused shake of his head, the slight curve of his moustache accentuating his unabashed grin. All throughout his life, Bartre Tapferkeit had been a hulking fount of strength and good cheer – if a noteworthy career in professional sports had not marred that, age certainly would not.

"The fervor of youth," Karel supplied. "And how have you fared, brother of mine?"

The larger man sniffed. "I'm not your brother, just the in-law. …Then again, you've always been a little weird, especially since…she passed."

He acknowledged the other man's words with a subdued nod, smiling wanly as he shared an observation made on the spur of the moment. "…Perhaps it was a machination of fate granting her fondest wish…

"All through our childhood, we were inseparable, despite the three years between us. She would follow me everywhere, emulate me in every way she could, cheer on my own efforts. …Where I broke into the world's medical vanguard, she became one of its finest psychiatrists…and if memory serves, she even managed your accounts during your tenure in professional sports."

"Thank God," Bartre interjected. "I'm still no numbers guy, not even after this stint as a coach…"

"All the while, she insisted on tending to me when she could…ironic, how her death finalized her desire to be with me."

"Yeah," the burlier man murmured. "After they diagnosed her as terminal, she was always telling me about her childhood with you when I visited. …Then you went and became a philosopher after her death…and picked up her research, too. I guess she really is still with us."

Breaking the somber conversation with a wicked grin, he continued, "So then, that doesn't make you my wife by some technicality, does it?"

Karel raised a mildly amused eyebrow. "Apologies, brother, but that is not so. Moreover, I believe you know of my rather…ascetic ways." Smiling faintly, he added, "Odd, since some of the problems I am approached with, I have no personal experience in…"

"Ah, yes! I've heard that the whole college has a penchant for taking their problems to you. Maybe that's more of Karla within you at work?" Bartre punctuated his joking inquiry with a deep, rumbling laugh before adding, "Then again, who _wouldn't_ want some of _your_ wisdom?"

The shameless mirth and honesty of his brother-in-law elicited a gentle chuckle and genuine smile from the Sacaen researcher. "I suppose you're right. …Regardless, the time has come for change, since Fir will be living here with me."

"Heh…let's hope she doesn't spend every waking moment pestering you, huh? I know how she idolizes you and Karla. She's even tried to start studying philosophy, and she told me that she wants to learn that _kendo_ thing from you." Bartre chuckled. "I'd tell her there's no point in learning how to swing a sword, but you know how she can get when she's serious about something."

_As had Akari, so many years ago…I pray she would understand the nature of the sword, before she sees what it makes of men._ The slighter of the two also chortled. "Have no fear, Bartre. Sooner rather than later, she will seek the company of others. Wisdom is only to be found in life, not in a book, or from the mouths of others – she shall see that soon enough."

"See what?" Fir had just walked up to the two older men, carrying a large cardboard box full of books.

"Something to be discussed later," Karel replied, guiding Fir into the house by a hand on her back, smoothly matching her stride. "Once we bring in the rest, we will go eat lunch. Is that suitable?"

"All right!" she accepted, and the small family and the movers present began bringing in the rest of her possessions.

* * *

The whispers of the wind fluttered his long brown hair, but failed to budge his stony expression, the hands folded in front of his face, or the brown leather trench coat that was restrained against the park bench by his seat. Behind him, tree branches swayed in tune with the gale, and the chirping of the summer's birds was carried by the breeze. Rutger disregarded the scenery around him, however, and simply sat and waited at the bench conveniently located near the parking lot.

A small, fanciful convertible pulled into the lot, and from it emerged a young man dressed in an olive-green jacket and black jeans. Swiftly making his way over to the bench Rutger was sitting on, he sat down next to him with characteristic aplomb.

"This is, like, from some old detective movie," he began. "Don't I usually just drop by your…" He trailed off as Rutger glared at him meaningfully. "_Oh_, yeah…sorry." Pausing briefly, he then vehemently added, "Actually, I'm not sorry at all, you jackass!

"_I_ have to work to get some, you know? It's hard out there for a player like me! But you? She told me you two met under a damn sunset! If there's a more blatant clue that you need a woman in your life, I don't know what it could be! Damn, I know you're all fucked up cuz'a yer past and whatever, I've heard the whole revenge bit, but why the fuck are you trying to kick away the only girl with the guts to really chase you?"

"Tch…_' '__this punk__' '__…_" the half-Sacaen snarled under his breath. Hugh could instantly tell he'd pissed off the private eye – his brow was more furrowed than usual, and his customary scowl now looked like it could fold steel and burn a hole through it.

"You don't get it, do you?" Rutger growled. "I don't answer to you. I won't bother explaining myself, because when I told you why, you did not understand – and you still don't."

Hugh rubbed at his temples with a measure of frustration, tense with uneasiness about the taller man's anger. "Actually, I'd say I do…a little bit.

"…My folks died in a blizzard before I was old enough to really remember them. Grandma wasn't much of a pleasant caretaker, so I struck out on my own when I turned fifteen." The normally loud, blustery youth paused, looking so pained he seemed to be spinning this tale with his own blood. However, he quietly continued, "It sucks, Rutger…you feel that hole eatin' at'cha. Ya _really_ feel it when you have to go back to a cold home, an empty bed…and the pain gets dull and numb, like you'd stop feeling if it went on long enough. That's why I ain't gonna be alone if I fuckin' got somethin' to say about it. You shouldn't be, either."

"I am _not_ like you," he snarled in response. "I don't intend to waste my time on fools like her." The common tongue failing him, he reverted to Sacaen, snarling,_' '__Stubborn bitch, turning my-__' '_

"This isn't why you're here," he suddenly interjected. "Hurry up and be gone."

Hugh sighed heavily. "Sure thing. Like always. The only reason you put up with me, huh?" Discreetly snatching an envelope that Rutger had produced seemingly from thin air, he narrowed his gaze at the half-Sacaen. "Y'know, this shit is really dangerous. Illegal, too, but in your case that's the lesser of two evils, I'd say." Spinning around, he kicked open the trunk of his car, pulled out a brown duffel bag, then opened the trunk of Rutger's car (he always left it unlocked when Hugh arrived) to drop it inside.

"You know the deal, pal…"

"Who the hell are you?" the brunette gruffly countered.

Hugh chuckled nonchalantly. "As always, that's the way to do it, Rutger. Later." With that, he climbed into his small convertible and peeled out of the parking lot, leaving Rutger with a lazy, scenic weekend afternoon and his own thoughts.

He pulled in a deep breath, but his exhalation was made shaky by his simmering rage. Leaning forward to balance his elbows on his knees, he folded his hands in front of his face to keep from tightening them into fists.

_I saw how they suffered. I watched them strangle at the hands of an unseen killer. I saw them die for the goals of a twisted pack of terrorists, losing everything in an instant…and I can't simply stand aside and do _nothing_ about that! I have to do something! I have to answer their challenge…_

_I have to kill them for what they've done, for what I saw and heard and felt and lost, everything that ever happened to me since that day. I can't let all this pain and sorrow and sadness come to nothing, do nothing but hurt me and isolate me and leave me all alone. It has to drive me somewhere, make me someone new, push me in a new direction…I can't just ignore it and live as if it never happened, I can't forget them like that._

Had he more presence of mind in that moment, Rutger might have nodded in self-reassurance to his justifying his way of life. _That's why I do this. That's why I live like this. In memory, in grief, in the name of balance…for vengeance._

"Rutger?"

Snapped out of his reverie, he looked up to see Cecilia tilting her head, an amused and curious expression on her face. Her arms were folded underneath her breasts – _goddamnit all, do NOT pay attention to those details, that's what she wants, the damned vixen_ – and most of her weight was on one leg. Not fond of her hospital scrubs as she was, she had dressed in a white blouse and slacks, along with a gold-trimmed sweater and a purple scarf gently strewn across her shoulders.

Unfolding her arms, she put one hand on her hip while leaning forward to lightly jab Rutger in the forehead with a finger, and he snorted in response as she smiled lightly. "I caught you brooding again, huh? You do too much of that. A bad habit from your loner days, I'd say…but instead, I'll say that we should enjoy this nice afternoon breeze and go take a walk. I just got out of a six-hour surgery, I'm done for the day, and I need to relax."

"If it's rest you need, there are better places to get it," he snapped in response, realizing exactly how his reply could be construed an instant before she did.

"Hmm…well, that would certainly be enjoyable, but it wouldn't be very restful or relaxing now, would it, Rutger?" she replied with a catty tone of voice and an almost predatory smirk. He knew those all too well – after the first time he'd let her through his guard (it was _his_ fault, not her doing, she hadn't slipped past his walls, he'd opened the door for her, and he _would_ kick her out and bar the gate, goddamnit all), he'd had to deal with them whenever he made a less-than-ideal choice in words or was overly stressed and worn out by any particular day.

For all his unsociability and disinterest in women, however, she had been visibly surprised by his capability in specific aspects of their relationship. Frankly speaking, he'd surprised himself as well, but he'd preferred to never have learned exactly how it felt, _her hands fisting in his hair, tightening around him as she screamed his-_

He snarled at the unbidden memory, cursing her inwardly. Seeing that she was apparently waiting for further input from him, he rose to his feet without a word, spun on his heel and walked towards the grassy central area of the park, where an ornate fountain was spewing streams of water from what looked like a pair of dragons. She matched his stride and slid her hand into his, earning a scowl that hardened further when she laid her free hand on his arm. _Who the hell does she think she is? _he inwardly grumbled.

_The only girl to ever get you in bed?_ a decidedly more self-indulgent section of his brain quipped. _Maybe the only one to ever really love you? Bet you've forgotten what that feels like. How's that for a two-for-one deal? _

Rather than grace that voice with an internal conversation, he kept a slow and easy pace, letting Cecilia rest her head against his shoulder without any outward complaints. The two eventually made their way to a large oak tree that offered a comfortable amount of shade and a good view of the nearby lake.

He dropped into a cross-legged sitting position and leaned against the trunk's smooth bark, only to be made aware of her presence once again when she settled into his lap, leaning her head into the crook of his neck. Snorting derisively, he shuffled and bent one leg upward to keep Cecilia from sliding off and falling backwards.

"See?" she drowsily murmured with a soft smile. "Don't act so tough…cuz really…you're still just…a nice…guy…"

Rutger remained silent as she fell asleep, subconsciously shifting to cuddle more tightly against him.

_Damnit…if only I were to simply destroy this now…but it would change nothing. It would hurt her all the same…as it would me…it would be no different from ending this by my death…_

_She's in the way_, a familiar voice offered_. A distraction, nothing more – you just said so yourself. And every moment you spend in her arms will make the end hurt more. Spare yourself the old pain. Don't be a fool – these bonds cause your suffering. They are the price to be paid for weakness. Cut them away!_

"Tch," he muttered under his breath, trying to put the feeling of the woman leaning against him into the furthest corners of his awareness. Cursing at himself would fix nothing…but what to do for his next move?

_It would have been so much easier…had my heart died all those years ago, with my family._ But it hadn't. That was why his barriers had crumbled, how she had become a part of his life. Once, it screamed for vengeance, loudly enough to pierce the deafening haze of his sorrow and drive him to hunt and kill. Now it was traitor to the cause, yearning for the pleasure and comfort she so freely offered.

But Rutger was no stranger to pain, and it would take more than Cecilia's heavily sexualized nurturing to make him turn his back on everything. His heart had long been left in the shadowed, unused corners of his life…and it could, it _would_ return to that state.

_All those long years…they won't be in vain. I won't be led astray by my desires. I've made my choice: a path paved with the blood of killers. This is my way…my way of the sword._

_I pray sensei is right, that all paths of the sword lead to one place…I want to someday achieve his level of skill, his control and wisdom. But I cannot squelch my vengeance so easily…not when it has become a part of me like this._

And so, underneath a solemn oak tree, Cecilia sleeping in his lap, Rutger wished for only one thing…

_The will to slay my heart._

* * *

Grumbling, Roy rolled over to check the alarm clock rather precariously placed on the head of the futon couch he was sleeping in. Nine-thirty was hardly any time for a college-age student to be going to sleep, but Roy's idea of adjusting to their new apartment failed to include examining the night life of the inhabitants of Aureola, the sleepy college suburb that played host to Aquelia University and housed a number of its students. A mere ten-minute drive away from the massive school, it was equally as close to the typical student attractions – or so the school's website said. The apartment itself was decidedly Spartan compared to his father's considerable holdings, and, the kitchen space aside, was not much larger than some of the hotels he'd stayed in during vacations. Roy Pherae, however, had never been much of one to wallow in luxury, and hoped that these comparatively sparse surroundings would be a good first step towards independence.

Of course, there was much more to becoming a self-sufficient adult than adjusting to less-than-ostentatious dwellings.

_Gotta…lessee…uh, find a laundromat, groceries, office store…wonder where the closest…goddamnit, I cannot go to sleep with my mind racing like this! At least the mattress on this thing is comfortable…_

_Oh…_he suddenly realized. _Maybe _this_ is why I can't get to sleep? Because Asthor, for some reason, turned what _should_ have been the second bedroom into a study? Fucking brilliant…I thought it was gonna be all the people at school making _those_ assumptions. If I gave a damn about "getting laid", I sure as hell wouldn't have asked_ him_._

_No shit. You'd have asked _her_,_ a libidinous voice supplied from the back of his head, snickering the while.

_I didn't say you could fucking talk! …God, I really hope moving in with her is gonna be worth this headache…_

_Not to mention the endless blue balls. Speaking of which, seriously, just grow a pair and-_

"Ugh!" Snarling, Roy sat up to interrupt the inner letch. Gazing through the pristine windows into the clear night sky, he fervently hoped would somehow find the strength to survive this first year. _Not to mention Lilina…_

_Speaking of which…_if he wasn't going to sleep any time soon, he might as well check up on her.

Rolling out of his bed with a groan, he slowly and silently made his way to the single bedroom – coincidentally positioned as the room furthest from the entrance. Gently prying the door to the bedroom open, he quickly peered in, hoping she wasn't sleeping. Turned on her side, away from the door, he couldn't be entirely sure.

"Lilina?" he whispered in what he hoped would be a voice audible, but not loud enough to wake her up.

"Roy? You're not…no, of course you're not asleep yet." He thought he could hear a shaky smile in her voice as she continued, "See? We should have found something to do instead of just…going to sleep…"

She still hadn't turned to face him, however, and he was getting suspicious. "Something wrong, Lilina?" he inquired.

"…I'm alright, Roy. Don't worry about me…please…"

"How can I not?" he hastily replied. "Seriously, you're acting weird, Lilina. Turn around and…" By this time, he had already subconsciously moved to her bedside, and reached out to lay a hand on her shoulder…

…when she then turned to face him, something haunted her eyes, like she'd seen a ghost she knew all too well. And when he saw that look, he knew he was going nowhere. Her red silken pajamas added an element of déjà vu to the moment, but he had a sinking feeling there would be no going back after this night.

After a brief, pregnant pause, he demanded, "What's wrong?"

She seemed hesitant for a moment, searching for words that would bring her thoughts to life. "…It…it's so cold…and quiet. So lonely…just like the first day, the night I heard that-"

"I know," Roy interjected, as much for her sake as his own. "I…I couldn't sleep either. For some time, I was afraid…for all of us.

"I…I'm sorry." When she looked up at him, quite confused, he continued, "I shouldn't have been scared like that." He turned away and sat onto the bed none-too-gently, continuing, with, "I should have…I should have been there for you. But I just left you alone instead, because I-"

"Roy." He stopped, and heard the sheets shuffle as she also sat up in bed. "I…I know you tend to worry about me…but I'm not helpless, you know? I'm stronger than this…I have to be…I think that's what Father would want."

His jaw set, but he smiled nonetheless and replied, "Yeah…probably. I know one day, you'll get there…and I'll be there with you every step of the way…like I always have been." Pausing only briefly, he did not quite consider fully his next words, though he would someday realize exactly what he said, what those words meant.

What he could make them mean.

"…Like I always will be." Rising from his seat on the bed, he added, "So if you ever need anything from me, you ever need any help…I'm right here." Moving to go back to sleep, he almost unwittingly eluded Lilina quickly reaching out for his hand. When she caught him by his wrist, however, all hope of sleep fled his body, and he froze still. _Oh shi-_

"I…I hope so," she hesitantly offered. "That one day, I won't always need your support. …But I'm not there yet, and I still…

She trailed off, and softly continued with, "…Did you really mean it when you said you'll always be with me?"

_I think I've seen this one before! _A familiar letch crowed within the deepest recesses his mind, sounding suspiciously like Alan in his less-than-sober moments – sans any slurring or hiccups, unfortunately, which would have made the voice easier to disregard. _Straight outta some romance novel! This is where you comfort her with some cheesy promise and finally bang her, ya twit!_

_Shut up, damnit! Son of a…_Roy swallowed nervously, not trusting himself to look into his dearest friend's eyes, instead keeping faced away. "Y-yeah. I don't say things I don't mean, Lilina – remember? That's why I'm terrible with jokes…"

Her hands closed over his, and she got out of the bed, leaning against his back and resting her head on his shoulder. "Just…just this once…just for tonight, would you stay here, then?" Her voice grew softer still as she continued, "I won't ask for this again…and I know you wouldn't want to do something like this, but please, just once…I'm not alone, I know, but sometimes I feel like I am…"

With a nervous gulp and a deep breath, the redhead scrambled for his self-control upon hearing her request, one part of his mind mandating that he get the _hell_ out of there _now_, one demanding he take the very obvious opportunity, and yet another telling him she needed him and he had to be there for her, all the obvious temptations and possible consequences be damned. So much of his mind clamored for control, but the inner conflict faded as his familiar resolve and words said long ago came back to him. Mustering the entirety of his willpower, he took slow, deep breaths, and remained perfectly still as he collected himself before he spoke.

"You aren't," Roy replied. Slowly turning to face her, he continued, "…All right. I'll stay for tonight."

Lilina's slow but unexpected embrace caught him off guard, and her whisper was softer than a summer breeze. "Just hold me, please…"

_I don't know if I can _just_ hold you for much longer,_ he silently replied, but he said nothing as he gently took her into his arms. As his fatigue caught up to him, he sent one last, fervent request to whatever spirit might have been watching.

_I wish she would smile again._

* * *

Every post is a repost of a repost. Reformatting, and change to fic title.

**P.S.**

_Akari Yukyonoken_

The Japanese name I made for Karla, duh. It was pretty obvious.

_Nii-san_

A more respectful way to address one's older brother. Also generally the way to address the older brother when both siblings are adults (i.e. Karla talking to Karel, as both were college-age in that scene and their relationship does not having a cute sort of endearment to it).

_Shinmei Kaze-ryuu_

A totally fictionalized name for the style of swordsmanship Karel studied, "Winds of Divine Fortune Style".

_Kensei  
_

Refers to extremely skilled and also spiritually enlightened swordsmen (Miyamoto Musashi is credited as the first to be considered one). Translates to "sword saint" (ehem).

_Oji-chan_

A title for one's uncle. Little does Fir know, "-chan" is typically indicative of a more child-like or endearing nature of the relationship, which certainly does not reflect how much she admires her uncle.


	3. A Rough Start

_**Those With Courage**_

**Disclaimer: **No, I still haven't bought Nintendo stock yet. I own nothing of Nintendo, Intelligent Systems, or Fire Emblem beyond the games I have at home.

Roy: generic harem protagonist, or generic-est harem protagonist? Oh, and you are now hearing Johnny Yong Bosch as Roy's voice.

Manually.

…

…Now that I've unleashed that monstrosity, let's move on.

* * *

**Chapter 2: A Rough Start**

* * *

The first thing she felt when she woke was the pair of arms wrapped around her.

A familiar sensation rushed into Lilina's heart as she glanced upward to see Roy sleeping next to her, his messy red hair half-covering his eyes as he slept, holding her gently. His brow was furrowed at some unseen discomfort, and he shifted and grumbled uneasily in his sleep.

_Why does he look so troubled?_ she wondered. _He can't even relax in his sleep…what is he so worried about?_

Despite herself, Lilina could not help but to gently graze a hand across his face, to run her fingers through the bright crimson locks that had been in his family for many generations – she would have burned with some shame at the act, if not for the fact that she was already blushing at their intimacy. She saw his tense frown fade into relaxation, and smiled slightly.

She was not prepared, however, for his second response – pulling her closer and moaning softly. She reddened even further and tried to squirm out of his embrace, but stopped when Roy mumbled, "Lilina…I'm sorry…" Before she could decide what to make of that, he continued, "...but I have to..." as his grip tightened.

_He_ has _to be asleep_, Lilina reminded herself. Nonetheless, she still had to speak her mind, if only for her own sake. Roy certainly wouldn't hear what she would say, but it would give her release.

"You don't need to be perfect, Roy," she softly replied, gently setting a hand against his chest and tucking a lock of scarlet hair behind his ear. "You can't _always_ be there for me." A small, sad smile graced her lips, and she continued, "You're not perfect…but you're fine the way you are. I just…I wish that you would…notice…" She trailed off, not wanting to say those words…because she knew him all too well, knew his response. Perhaps she was afraid of what would happen afterwards, what stood to be lost.

She thought he heard him snarl, and Roy again mumbled very audibly. "Always…"

…_Yes. Not perfect…but that's not what I want. That's not what I…what I fell in love with._ Shy as she was, she still had some difficulty admitting it, even in the privacy of her own mind.

_If I have forever to be with him…then I can wait,_ she eventually decided. Settling more comfortably against Roy, she sighed deeply and relaxed, relishing the chance to fall asleep in his arms.

--

_The stranger's body shone with a mysterious light, and his strangely ornamented blade radiated brighter still. Before him stood a great beast, teeth like steel and claws like tremendous blades, easily huge enough to crunch him underfoot. The beast was set to devour some unknown soul, trapped and cowering with fear, begging for someone to save her. As the hero sprung forward, fearlessly charging into the dragon's embrace-_

Roy snapped awake. This was the third time in the past week he'd had these dreams, these strange visions of an ancient hero taking arms against unspeakable evils. Sighing with some relief, he hugged his pillow tighter.

Odd...why was his pillow so warm and soft and _oh shi-_. Lilina's face was buried in the crook of his neck, she was pressed uncomfortably close to him, and certain involuntary reactions were taking place that he _really_ did not want her to notice.

Despite the chill crawling down his spine and into every tip of his body, he instead tried to pry open her embrace. When she tightened her grip on his arm, however, he stopped and watched her look up to meet his gaze. "…Just a little longer, please…" She spoke so quietly he had to strain to hear her, before she settled more comfortably against him.

Roy said nothing in response, merely holding her in total, uneasy silence. With a prolonged sigh, he decided, _Thank God waking up like that scared me so badly. _Shifting awkwardly, he tried to calm himself…in several ways.

Nestled in the crook of his neck, Lilina's brief but miffed frown was hidden from sight. _Maybe I don't want everything to be so perfect, but honestly, how can he be so dense?_

* * *

_How?_

A finely crafted metal blade sang through the air, and Rutger turned to follow his slash, a downward strike meant to rend from left shoulder to right hip.

_Where does that power come from?_

Spinning round, he unleashed another slash, this one flashing upward and left, the morning dew shining through the window and reflecting off the blade to craft a bright ray of colored light.

_What is the power he has that I don't?_

Another full spin, and he unleashed a chest-height right-to-left strike.

_Is that the strength that enlightenment brings?_

Turning his blade to point outward, he raised it to bring the sword down in another cross-body slash.

_How did he find such power, such wisdom?_

With one more forceful pivot, he brought about the last strike – a powerful uppercut slash that he had to hop with to match the momentum, to maintain his balance and his grip on the blade.

_What is the answer to that riddle?_

Though he landed deftly on his feet in the soft gym floor, he was not pleased – he had not felt the same power he had witnessed in his teacher's display of the arcane technique. His strokes felt limp and weak in the memory of his _sensei_ sundering the very air with a precision both mighty and swift. Slumping to his hands and knees with fatigue, Rutger audibly snarled with frustration.

_What was the understanding he spoke of, the knowledge I need before I can unleash the true might of _Goryu Tensaku_? What path must I tread to find that power?_

Five years ago, he had first seen the technique. For five years, he strove to master it…but he could not replicate the power his teacher had exhibited. Once, he had asked _sensei_ what the understanding he'd spoken of was. He still remembered those words – they taunted him every time he practiced the technique, the older man's enigmatic smile adding to the infuriation.

"_No. I can give you no answer. _You_ must learn what power it is that drives you forward. You must achieve this understanding alone, for I do not walk your path. Only those with true understanding, who are enlightened, can split the heavens with this technique."_

But he knew no fear. He knew why he fought, why he hungered for vengeance. There was no other understanding to achieve. He understood fear and pain and solitude and the feeling of watching a treasured memory fade into nothing like smoke in the wind, so _why did that power still elude him_?

Pushing off of his hands into a kneeling position, he let out an enraged roar that pierced the morning's silence. _Nothing…nothing will stand in the way of my vengeance! Not my lack of understanding, not my lack of power, not even all the pain and loneliness I've felt for fifteen years! Their lives are mine…I will give _anything_, pay _any_ price to spill their blood…_

His hands fell limplyto his side before tightening into fists, and the haze of rage quickly subsided. Rising to his feet, he gingerly sheathed his sword, replaced it in its stand, and left the gym floor he'd constructed in his sizable apartment to shower. He intended to devote the second day in a week-long sabbatical from his private eye business to practicing marksmanship, but the release that swordsmanship granted him was powerful in its ability to enhance his focus. Were it not illegal in most of the city's establishments, he would have carried his blade wherever he pleased. The weapon had been forged by a master bladesmith, the same one who supplied live blades to _sensei_. The blades were masterpieces, crafted of the wealth of quality metals from the Western Isles, forged in the pure streams of Bern's mountains, shaped through the masterful technique of historic Sacaen smiths who had crafted superior blades with lesser materials. Many collectors had sought to acquire these treasures from the famously reclusive craftsman, but he was known for only providing weapons to those who were masters of them.

Perhaps it was this monetary and sentimental value the sword was imbued with. Perhaps it was because it was a gift from his master in the way of the sword. Perhaps, even, it was the feeling of power that tingled in his arms when he raised the blade. Whatever the reason, the sword was important to Rutger, even though it served him little purpose in his work. Cecilia had understood this within moments of seeing the craftsmanship that had been invested in the blade, and had long since learned to not disturb Rutger's training rituals. Instead, she'd decided to prepare a solid meal for them before Rutger left for the day. Said meal was now sitting in the oven, and Cecilia was idly watching yet another news broadcast devoted to covering the fatal crash of the Lycian president's personal aircraft, which had killed at least twenty people, including the president and other powerful figures in Lycian politics. _That's old news already, though – terrible tragedy, hearts go out, suspect and motive yet unidentified, yada yada_, she somewhat callously thought to herself, switching the idiot box off.

"Are you all right?" she asked as he left the gym, streaked with sweat and shirtless. She felt a familiar desire stir inside her at the sight, but ignored it for now. "You sounded pretty angry in there."

"You wouldn't understand," he grunted in response.

"Try me," she volunteered.

Snorting, he instead stomped on past her into the bathroom. Cecilia sighed at the rejection, a familiar event in their new relationship. _Really, I should have known better than to think he'd open up so easily. _Shrugging, she reminded herself that if she started settling for less with him, she'd get nothing at all.

She heard the door slam shut and the water switch on, and smiled at the sound. For no reason in particular, she felt emboldened by…something.

…_Well…you know what? I haven't had my shower today yet, either…_

* * *

It was only natural that she would be awed at the opulent nature of the restaurant. After all, it was famous not only for the high-caliber cuisine, but also as a place for the famous and wealthy. And while Karel himself was no frequent visitor, he at least had the presence of mind to not gawk like a pauper at the burnished oak walls, the ornate paintings on the ceilings, and the delicately crafted chandeliers.

"Why are we eating here, _oji-chan_?" Fir inquired. "This is such a fancy place…you don't need to-"

"Believe me, Fir, I would not have chosen this place for our lunch if it were only the two of us. I still would not have chosen it if Bartre had not left for home. I am here at the behest of an old friend with expensive tastes and greater-still generosity."

"Uh…" Fir's brow furrowed as she rifled through her memory for candidates. "…Mr. Reglay?"

Her uncle responded with an affirming, light chuckle. Looking up, he smiled faintly and candidly added, "Indeed. Few who meet Pent forget him easily."

"I must say, I'm not sure what to make of that," the man in question replied. His folded arms and raised eyebrow lasted barely one second before he, too, laughed. "You _would_ know all about that, wouldn't you?" Pent Reglay continued.

Karel blinked once. "Perhaps. But I am not the one who takes every chance possible to share _that_ story."

"And what is he to make of _that_ comment?" the woman who accompanied Pent replied.

"Um…uh…" Thoroughly confused by the conversation, Fir's gaze moved from her uncle to Pent to the newcomer, his wife of twenty-five years, Louise Reglay.

The latter, a beautiful blonde with a motherly countenance, greeted them. "Oh! It's wonderful to see you, Fir. You were admitted to Aquelia University, yes?"

"Y-yes. I'm going to be living with _oji-chan_, too. I'm looking forward to it!"

Louise gave Karel a suspicious look. "Isn't that-" She was interrupted by a knowing glance from the Sacaen, and acknowledged his silent request with a smile, quickly changing subjects. "My, we haven't seen you in years, Fir! Isn't that right, honey?"

"Hm? Oh, yes!" Pent Reglay replied. "Last I saw you, you were…oh yes, I was co-directing those movies in Sacae. Ten years ago…you would still have been a tot then! Dear, time can be so elusive…"

Louise sighed, running a hand through her slightly faded blonde hair. "I _do_ understand that all too well." Turning to face Fir, she continued, "Honestly, though, it _is_ good to see you again, dear. My, you have grown beautifully! I imagine your father is quite proud."

Blushing at the compliment, Fir managed, "Y-yes, he is. Sometimes, he tells me I look so much like Mother…"

"You do, dear," Louise reassured her. Giving Karel a small smile, she added, "You should know, your uncle here is quite popular with the student body as a wise man and a wonderful teacher. So many young men and women come to him with their problems, and they have nothing but wonderful things to say about his guidance."

Karel shook his head, amusement and mirth void from his face. "No…I do not tell them where to walk. You overrate my contribution to their growth."

Pent snorted. "Modesty is the first mark of a sage, I hear. Speaking of which, when I first met Karel, modest was hardly the word to describe him…"

* * *

"_So, anyways, I said…" The woman's voice trailed off as she lost track of her conversation._

"_Don't just cut it off like that! What happened next?"_

"_Um…she's kinda occupied, if you know what I mean." A knowing glance was followed by a gesture behind them._

"_Huh? What do- Who is that guy? Oh my God, he is-"_

"_I know what you mean…"_

_Mildly surprised by the sudden stop in the conversation he had been overhearing in the corner of his awareness, Pent Reglay blinked out of a brief, lulling stupor. His classes were finished for the day, which led him to idly wait in the school cafeteria's patio for his fiancé of three years, Louise Méthiste…or at least until his attention had been piqued. Following their gazes, he spotted the source of their awe. A Sacaen man…certainly odd, since most Sacaens kept to their homeland, even in these days of globalization and everything going international._

_This one, the young man striding through Aquelia University, however, stood out even more than a stereotypically perceived Sacaen would have. He was tall, lean and handsome – but unlike most upper-class Etrurians, he was not meticulously groomed, bearing wild ebony hair reaching down his back and no trace of any cosmetics. He wore an unadorned navy coat reaching to his knees, with faded white slacks and brown leather shoes. His strides were swift and full of purpose, and his eyes were sharp, intelligent and focused – a sharp contrast to with the leisurely nature most college students exhibited._

_Pent prided himself on being sharp and perceptive when it came to people. And though all he caught was a side profile of the man, he could have sworn that the fellow had a unique look in his eyes, like those private eyes from silver-screen movies who insisted on being "lone wolves" (Pent had always been a sucker for good detective films)._

_A neutral observer might point out that Pent didn't personally know any such people and that movies had little (read: 0, nada, zilch) basis in reality, and he would thus hardly be in any position to make an accurate judgment, but little things like lack of precedent weren't about to stop Pent Reglay from befriending some lonesome Sacaen bookworm who was too handsome for his own good (imagine what catastrophes might occur if he was ambushed by some pretty lady on the prowl!). Thankfully, he happened to know quite a bit of the Sacaen tongue…and now, he finally had a chance to put that knowledge to use._

_Rising from his seat, he waved at the foreign fellow, calling out, You over there! May I have a moment of time?_

--

_Despite not being naturally expressive, Hikaru Yukyonoken nearly flinched. _Not only is he botching the pronunciation…_he ignored the other man and continued walking, never having lost a step. However, the other man caught up and stood in front of Hikaru, so his gaze narrowed as he was forced to stop and size up this audacious fellow._

_Neck-length, well-groomed lavender hair, and eyes of the same color. Tall, lean, well-dressed, a slightly effeminate sort of handsome. _Typical wealthy Etrurian playboy_, he decided. Amending that statement internally, he added, _At least in appearance…what would drive him to be so insistent on speaking to me?

_So…you can speak in Sacaen, Hikaru replied._

_Yes! the Etrurian cheerfully replied. A friend of mine taught me. By the way, I am Pent Reglay. It is nice to meet you, and I hope we can become good friends!_

_Who taught you our tongue…Pent?_

_A friend of mine! I know she'd love to meet you, er…oh dear, how stupid of me! Your name?_

_…Karel. More importantly, are you aware that you speak like a Sacaen woman?_

_Total confusion set in on Pent's face. …What do you mean?_

_In Sacae, varying dialects and levels of deference in speech are used in various situations. Apparently, your "friend" hadn't been aware of these societal distinctions…more importantly, he continued, "Did you really expect me to not know Common?"_

"_Well, I thought you might feel more comfortable if I spoke in your mother language. …Was I wrong?"_

"_Quite. Your almost offensively bad pronunciation, the feminine dialect you used and your Etrurian accent result in your…_attempt_…at Sacaen speech highly confusing, despite your adequate vocabulary." Karel's expression remained unchanged through this scathing critique._

"_Oh dear…" The other man frowned briefly. "Perhaps she was trying to flatter me when she said I'd been learning quickly…"_

_The Sacaen's gaze remained hardened as he replied, "In one sense, you were. However, frankly, that would not surprise me. Now, move aside – I have business to attend to."_

_Pent shrugged. "Fair enough. But can you tell me when your schedule today will be open?"_

"…_It's not. After a meeting with my professor, I'm going home to-"_

"_Psh." Pent casually dismissed that notion with a wave of his hand and a grunt. "We're not even two weeks into the term and you're gonna hole up in your room, hunkering over books? Should be enjoying yourself more this early on, seriously."_

_Cutting him off before he could protest, Pent continued, "Well, I'll be waiting for you by the cafeteria. I'll find you, so don't fret too much. See ya!" With that, he briskly walked away, leaving a befuddled and mildly irritated Karel to glare at the man's back._

"_I wasn't going to study, I'm writing a research article," he protested to nobody. As the Sacaen youngster returned to his path, he suddenly made a key realization. "…I passed the cafeteria on the way up here."_

_With that, Karel considered his options. "Actively avoiding him would just be cowardly…and he doesn't seem like the type to give up easily." An unbidden memory came to him, a light-hearted chiding from his sister about his unsociability, stemming from his intense devotion to his twin passions of medicine and martial arts._

"…_I don't stand to lose much. I may as well."_

* * *

"Certainly one of the best gambles you ever made, _mon ami_," Pent concluded, faintly grinning over a sip of wine. "And for me as well – your wisdom has been a blessing in my life, and time and again you've surprised me with your cunning and aptitude in so many things. You played no small part in the making of _Radiant Lights_, after all."

Karel chuckled mildly. "And with the way you speak of it, one would assume I gained nothing out of our friendship. My experience in assisting your casting and writers taught me much concerning film and art in general, and I have certainly learned so much from you as well."

"A toast, then?" Louise chimed in. Her timely and thoughtful contribution elicited pleasant smiles from those present, and they raised their glasses in unison.

"To old friends and inseparable bonds," Pent began.

"To all of us, that we may draw wisdom, strength and courage from each other," Karel added.

"And to the next generation, that they might form friendships even greater than the ones we have," Louise continued, giving the youngest of the four an encouraging smile.

Finally seeing her opportunity to contribute, Fir finished the toast with an energetic "Cheers!"

And as they clinked glasses and continued their pleasant chatter, only one thing was on the young girl's mind.

A giddy anticipation of her future, and an eagerness to go out and traverse that path.

* * *

I am ignoring sleep and potential opportunities to study for finals so I can write this thing. Hopefully, this doesn't get the same cricket chorus that all my forum posts do.


End file.
